


Cold scales

by Sternenstaub



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Autumn, Cuddling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, soft, the M-Rating is just for the general violence of the setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:21:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26975074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sternenstaub/pseuds/Sternenstaub
Summary: Letho almost freezes to death, Jaskier stumbles upon him and saves him.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Letho z Gulety | Letho of Gulet
Comments: 30
Kudos: 143





	Cold scales

Letho entered the Old Bull's Eye. It wasn't the best tavern, not even the best of this part of the city but the barkeep didn't ask questions and it was entirely too cold to spend the night close to the docks, waiting for a ship that would likely never come. It was autumn, not even very late autumn, the weather had no reason to be this cold already, but his nose could tell tomorrow they'd wake up to the first snow. And the ships had reported storms giving them troubles for days now. 

The witcher shivered, his coat was way too thin for this, his body, as big as he was, not made for the cold. Vipers had many great qualities, fast, silent, deadly, poisonous, no really, his blood was more poisonous than that of most witchers, he could coat a dagger in his own blood and kill a man with just a scratch, had done it often. But Vipers also had some less desirable traits, mainly their poor resistance to cold, it made them tired, sluggish, slow and that could kill a witcher, no matter if he fought monsters or men. 

A dark corner in the tavern was empty and he sat down, choosing the chair he hoped would not break under his weight, why was so close to the docks nothing build for the size of dock workers, or of witchers? A bard was playing an annoying song he tried to tune out. Oxenfurt was full of bards and none were ever as good as they thought.

The barkeep came over, ignoring his face hidden under his hood with practiced ease, not stuttering over his sheer bulk or daggers on his back even once, this was the kind of bar that was used to all of this and more, and gave him an ale. It was watery and tasted like shit, Letho had had dirty river water that tasted better but the place was dry and it was reasonably warm and people would leave him alone. Maybe he'd even get into a nice brawl, the dock workers should not get hurt too much if he didn't hit full force, or cheat someone at Gwent tonight. 

There was indeed a brawl and some blood, the barkeep threw him and everyone else who had partaken out. It was cold and the trees lost their last leaves, the wind at the docks was merciless. Letho shuddered and went looking for a place to stay but every Inn or tavern saw his bulk, his eyes or his daggers, and yes okay, maybe the blood splatters on his coat, sometimes all of thazand refused to let him enter. He was too tired to argue, too cold to get into another brawl just because someone was rude. It was not worth it.

He huddled down in a stable, feeling snowflakes blow through the cracks in the walls and cursed himself for staying too long in this ass crack cold town, he should have started traveling south weeks ago. But no, some contract had kept him up here and now he was sleeping in the hay with snowflakes on his skin. Fuck that, really.

A rustling woke him up but he was too slow, something always rustled in a stable, horses, mice, the wind, and his cold, slow brain had taken just a second too long. Something heavy hit his head and at the same time he felt a blade bury in his chest, it burned with more than just steel. He was barely awake enough to think, "huh, so that's how it ends." before it went dark again.

\--------

"Did you hear about Markus? Told me his brother and his friends got a witcher, you know, that one at the docks, big burly guy. Was no problem at all, all bark and no bite them are. Knocked that Mutant out and threw him in the ditch, you know, the one the city insists is the future?" A man laughed, a ugly and broken sound and soon his friend joined in. Jaskier grit his teeth and decided to listen but it seemed they had already had enough fun and talked about the food now. He wondered if it was his witcher. No, not his, not anymore, not for years now.

But the thought still wouldn't leave him. No matter who this was, he couldn't just let somebody die because Geralt of fucking Rivia had broken his heart. Jaskier went back to his little room close to university, not quite on campus, as he liked to avoid his conquests and his students meeting, being very careful those two never overlapped, but he also liked to be at his lecture hall with a minimum of walking, Melitele knew he had walked enough in his lifetime. 

Jaskier took a blanket and warm shoes that were as resistant to water as they could get without magic and walked to the ditch. It was indeed just called the ditch by most people even if it was actually a kind of clarifying basin, the inventor had been very proud about it and told them it made water reusable no matter how dirty it was. Jaskier thought it was mostly stinky and never worked like predicted, as it was frozen over all winter. He felt the snow crunch under his boots when he left his rooms again, it was dark outside, not that that meant that it wasn't still late afternoon, it was autumn after all, and the snow had been coming down for a day already.

The ditch was abandoned, the edges already freezing and there just was no reason for anyone to be here when the whole town knew it would stop working in less than a week. Jaskier shook his head, just another invention that would never make history. But he had to concentrate, bitching about colleagues was not why he was here. He doubted he'd actually find a witcher here, or any human that was not already long dead. The ditch had become a very popular dumping ground for bodies nobody would miss. 

He looked around in the dim light the day still allowed them to enjoy and could see some fabric floating in the water at the edge of the pool. It was dark and tattered but Jaskier could have sworn it was part of a bigger piece. He climbed down, carefully and slowly, he would not die trying to save someone who was mostly likely already dead. It wasn't Geralt, he knew it wasn't him. His The witcher would not die in a dirty pool full of shit.

He poked the floating piece of fabric and there was definitely something under it, Jaskier could see something bigger moving under the water and when he looked closely he could almost make out a face a bit over the fabric. The body was huge, bigger than anyone he'd ever met and the head he could see, blessedly faced upwards, was bald.   
Jaskier heaved a sigh, definitely not Geralt. But still, the closer he looked the more the fabric looked like witcher armor and Jaskier would not be Jaskier if he just gave up a witcher. He grit his teeth and stepped into the freezing pool, the water cut into his ankles like tiny daggers and he swore he'd be seriously put out should this witcher already be dead and he get frostbite for nothing.

Pulling the floating body closer, he saw the witcher was easily twice his size, Jaskier had never seen a man so big, not even dock workers were this bulky. His skin was almost blue and he didn't react but Jaskier could see his chest lift just once every minute or so. Still breathing then, that was good. He had no idea how to move the body once it was out of the water but first he had to get him out, then he could plan further.

Jaskier wrapped the witcher´s upper body in the dry blanket and tried to get his feet out of the cold water, then he looked around and found an old cart and some rope. It was a bit of stealing maybe and also not exactly nice to the clearly wounded witcher, who bled slowly and sluggishly from a chest wound, but he pulled him up the small incline on the rope and hid him in the cart until he arrived at his home.

Stoking the fireplace, he wrangled the still unconscious witcher as close as he dared without him catching on fire. The man was truly big and Jaskier was sure he had never seen him before. The armor looked old and was falling apart, the water had certainly not helped and Jaskier went looking for a witcher medallion while trying to open the unfamiliar clasps. Really, why did all witchers wear armor with so many unnecessary belts and clasps? It's as if they wanted it to be extra complicated to get their clothes off. 

Jaskier felt a bit guilty about undressing an unconscious guy, who would most likely feel vulnerable like this, but he knew he needed to get him out of the cold wet clothes. He just hoped the guy wouldn´t attack him, should he even survive.   
His skin was still almost blue and he breathed barely faster then when he had found him. The wound in his chest was sluggishly bleeding but Jaskier wasn´t sure if that meant it was healing or just that the witcher had no more blood to loose.

The guy was scarred like every witcher Jaskier had met so far, okay, it had only been one other witcher he had seen more than just the head of, but it still applied. Long gashes decorated his broad chest and dark scars traveled down his side towards his hip. That one must have hurt, Jaskier thought and noticed it looked a lot like sword scars and from like claws. Even on his head was a big scar, it seemed fairly fresh and Jaskier pulled his shirt carefully over it, hoping the witcher had not a concussion to boot. He finally saw his medaillon, it looked like some kind of snake. Not one of Geralt´s then. He wasn´t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. Jaskier dressed the wound on his chest as good as he could and hoped witcher healing would do the rest.

The finally very naked still very unconscious witcher was wrapped up in a blanket and Jaskier put some heated stones next to him, hoping he would not shock his body too much. He was not qualified for this but somehow he doubted this guy would be treated by the healer next door. Oxenfurt had recently seen a rise in hate propaganda, Nilfgaard invading had not helped and anyone who was not visibly human was just as likely to be killed as helped.

Jaskier watched the stranger all night, saw him start breathing faster and his skin gaining color, he started to shiver and Jaskier jumped up to get some tea made, surely something warm from the inside would help.

Big yellow eyes looked at him, pupils blown wide and clearly disoriented when he came back, teacup in hand. The man tried to jump up and was clearly grabbing for something, probably the daggers Jaskier had found on him. He was glad they were a few metres away. This was still a stranger, a stranger twice his size who could probably kill him even while seriously hurt. Jaskier ignored this small spark of fear that crossed his brain, he had never stopped helping someone just because it might be dangerous to him. 

“Glad to see you awake.” he said softly and tried to smile as wide and genuine as he was able to, “Gave me a bit of a scare there.” He approached the witcher with slow measured steps, slitted eyes still watching him but it was clear that he was not really seeing anything, looking through Jaskier instead at him and flailed around like a fawn. Cute, Jaskier thought and wondered how he could think a 200 pound mountain of muscle and full of scars to be cute. “Here,” he said instead and showed him the teacup filled with a herbal blend, “drink.” 

The witcher tried to get his hands to move, maybe too out of it to question a direct order but was shaking too much. After the first drop spilled, Jaskier took the cup away from him again. A slow whine escaped the big man's throat and he looked horrified about it. “It´s okay, darling.” Jaskier tried to soothe, “Just let me.” The man went rigid when Jaskier positioned himself behind him but it seemed he was not up to a fight yet or decided to trust Jaskier for now, he wasn´t sure which one but somehow he doubted this was a guy who trusted easily.

Jaskier positioned his legs around the witcher so his chest could support the big mans still very very cold back, he hissed at the contact, “How can you even be alive?” a laugh escaped him, too shocked to fully comprehend just how close a call this must have been for that man and Jaskier draped his arms over the big witcher. He could barely reach around him but managed to slowly lift the teacup to his lips. “It's fine, drink.” he encouraged him when the man seemed reluctant to do so at first and then took a small sip himself, to show him it was safe. The man seemed to understand even though he was still clearly disoriented. Jaskier wondered how long this would hold. 

Once the teacup was empty, the man fell asleep again, right on Jaskier. He chuckled, of course only a half dead, out of his mind witcher would fall asleep on him, never a conscious one. He couldn´t move and didn´t want to wake the man. His charge was still so very cold but he assumed his body heat would help as well. The room was warm enough to sleep on the floor and it was late, Jaskier could just rest here, sitting up, cradling a man twice his size in his arms. The smell? He'd ignored it so far, it was hardly worse than onions and heartache. 

\------

Letho woke up with a start, there was a noise behind him that made his heart jump. He groaned and tried to sit up, surprised it didn´t work, a blanket was keeping him hostage. What happened?   
He tried to sort his thoughts but his brain was sluggish. He felt so very cold and behind him was a wonderful source of heat. He almost fell asleep again, wrapped in a blanket with something so warm next to him, floating in the feeling when his brain caught up. Soft, warmth, noise? Something living was sitting behind him and that could only mean danger. 

The source of warmth moved when he wiggled and tried to stand up. Why was his body not cooperating? What was going on? He growled in frustration but even that came out feeble and more like a whine. Letho remembered snow, a poisoned dagger and then coldness, it had been wet, cold and dark, he remembered feeling like he was floating and then nothing.

“Awake, darling?” his heat source asked and Letho startled, he would never admit that he had to swallow a squeak like a mouse but nobody would ever know, right? How could he forget there was someone behind him, how could he be so careless? Warm hands met his shoulders and rubbed them in a soothing rhythm, he did not know when the last time someone had touched him like this, just to give warmth and comfort, he wanted to wrap around this feeling, to never let go of the warmth and the soft humming. He shook his head again, don't get distracted, he chided himself. As he was trying to turn his head around and the body behind him wiggled, “Don't squish me please, big guy.” it laughed, male definitely, Letho decided, young, but all humans felt young to him. He stopped moving and received a short thankful squeeze on his arm.

The very male and it seemed human heat source wiggled out behind him and Letho noticed brown hair and bright blue eyes that looked at him curiously. His back felt cold and part of him, a small part that he never listened to, wanted to pull the man back and just fall asleep again.   
Instead he once again tried to stand up but his legs wouldn't cooperate, with a groan of frustration, he could barely get up on his knees before his head swam and his legs shook.

"Let me help you, big guy." the man said and reached out to stabilise him. How he could help, Letho wasn't sure. That idiot must be half his size and could never carry him. He wondered how someone so small could just reach out for him without a hint of hesitation. Even if he didn't know about the witcher part, and Letho doubted he had missed that, what with the eyes, scars and double daggers, he did not look like the kind of guy you just brought home.   
No, Letho looked like the kind of guy who would stab you in an alley and take your money, he wanted to look that way, it helped him do his job and people rather trusted a scary looking guy with an assassination contract.

Letho also noticed that he was naked and while he was in no way shy, that also meant he was without weapons. His hands could easily kill a man but always carrying a weapon on his body had become second nature at this point. The man carefully averted his eyes from Letho's nakedness and that was also new, most people used the rather rare opportunity to ogle a witcher if just to be horrified at all the scars. Instead he was handed a smaller blanket to wrap around himself with a sheepish grin. "I'm sorry but nothing I own would fit you, big guy."

Apparently he had been lost in thought again, because the man cleared his throat and Letho was still staring at his hand, "Come on, I have a warm bed but I can't carry you upstairs, think you can walk?" Letho nodded slowly, he was not at all sure he could but he would never admit that. On wobbly legs he stood and grabbed the small blanket, it was very soft, when he stumbled while he wrapped it around himself, surprisingly strong arms steadied him. He did not know why he allowed this, hated himself for not resisting but rationalised that he would be off faster if he just let this man fret about him. 

The way upstairs was slow and the man would not stop talking, Letho learned his name was Jaskier and that he was a professor at Oxenfurt, he learned where he had been found and why he felt so dirty. "I didn't dare to clean you up, afraid the water would aggravate your wound or cool you down again. I'm afraid I can't offer a warm bath right now." Jaskier did not seem to expect him to answer and he was glad about it, he needed all his concentration for moving one foot in front of the other.

The room upstairs was less warm and had no fireplace, his teeth were chattering no matter how much he told his body not to move a muscle out of place. A warm hand rubbed his back and Letho growled, to his dismay it sounded rather like a meowling kitten. His body refused to listen and his brain was full of fog and his nose… he did not want to think about the smell, he could barely stand being around himself and wondered why Jaskier didn't seem to mind that on his bed. 

The bed was heavenly. He fell into it rather ungraceful and enjoyed the smell of honey and pine, a soft blanket was tucked around him. When had been the last time someone had tucked him into bed? Letho couldn't remember anyone ever doing that. Letho fell asleep without another thought.

When he woke up again it was bright outside, the smell of snow tickled his nose and his brain seemed to have gained better traction again. A second blanket was wrapped around him and a cup of lukewarm tea stood at his side. Stretching, he took note of his body, it was not recovered yet, his muscles clearly worse for wear after hypothermia and his wound still barely scabbed over. But it was healing.   
Thankfully Vipers were resistant to most poisons even if this one had knocked him out for several hours. He wondered if he would have survived without this strange man called Jaskier. Probably not. What did he want from him? Some humans were overly interested in certain experiences with a witcher or to have them under control but so far nothing of that had happened. 

After just a few moments that very man entered the room. Blue eyes looked at him bright and cheerful but showed clear signs of sleep deprivation. Something in Letho´s chest constricted at the thought. "I'm glad to see you up again, feeling better? I borrowed a wash tub from the neighbors, it might be a bit small for you but I thought you might like to warm up and get rid of all that." he gestured to his whole body and wrinkled his nose but his eyes didn't show disgust for a second. Strange man. 

Feeling wrong footed by such a domestic display, Letho nodded without a word. Most of his life he reacted to the way people treated him, if they expected violence, that's what they got and usually paid for. But this was new territory. He didn't want to hurt this guy, he wasn't paid to do so and he couldn't remember the last time he had stayed at someone's home, in someone's bed, especially not alone.

Jaskier beamed at him when he saw Letho sitting up on his own, how could anyone look at him with so much open joy, he was a witcher, a killer, dangerous. Why was this guy not afraid?   
"Need help getting up?" Jaskier asked and already came closer, putting one hand on his arm. Letho jerked away and growled, "Don't touch me! I'm not an invalid!" The light in those bright blue eyes dimmed just a bit and he wanted to bite his tongue for snapping at him. "Right, yeah, okay, sorry. I'll put the bath water in, come whenever." Jaskier said and left him alone. The room felt colder without him.

He barely managed to get to the bathroom, which was just on the other side of the floor, thankfully, not downstairs, and groaned when his still cold body hit the warm water. Jaskier hovered close, maybe to make sure he wouldn't drown but did not touch him again. He averted his eyes as soon as Letho had let go of the blanket around him. Strange guy, he thought again and started to clean the muck from his skin. Lavender oils and soaps with honey were sitting next to the tub. It was really a bit small, more of a wash basin than a real tub but he made do. His knees hit his chest and he could barely move but the warmth and getting clean were worth it. He had had worse before. 

With a bit of help, which he definitely did not require but apparently Jaskier seemed to think differently after he'd stumbled into the doorframe and bruised his hip, Letho fell back into the bed, blessedly clean now. Jaskier had never stopped talking and at one point he had gotten tired of being called "big guy" and grumbled that his name was Letho. Jaskier had beamed at him and just chattered along. 

Once he lied down again his body complained about everything, every muscle locking up. His brain was sluggish and half asleep. If he had been more coherent, he would have been appalled to show such weakness and carelessness towards a stranger. As it was he couldn't bother to care. 

A cold breeze met his naked back and he shivered until he felt a warm blanket pulled over him. Without thinking he grabbed the source of heat above him. With a startled yelp Jaskier fell into the bed next to him. His brain registered warmth and softness and a smell that had calmed him yesterday, so he shuffled closer. His head pressed into the incline of a neck, honey and pine and a smell that was as close to fondness as he could discern. The heat source chuckled, he felt the vibration on his face and warm arms wrapped around his shoulders. "I hope you won't regret this in the morning, big guy." He snuggled closer to the warmth and a tiny part of him, the part that craved touch and closeness reveled in the smell of honey, pine and happiness, in warm arms wrapped around him without expecting anything and the low humming of a song in the back of his mind. 

He woke up with his head on a slowly breathing chest, a human heartbeat in his ear that told him *safety*safety*safety*. His arms were wrapped around a lithe torso and a warm, slightly calloused hand was lying on his head. He was warm, he was comfortable, barely hurt and couldn't bring himself to pull away for now. Nobody would know, right?   
A feather light kiss met his temple, "Five more minutes." a sleepy voice whispered, barely awake. Who was he to deny such a simple request? He snuggled closer, the day would start soon enough and he'd have to go his way. For now, he enjoyed this small piece of happiness destiny had granted him.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a bingo for the prompts autumn and cuddles. And boy did Letho fight me. But at this I kind of want to give him another chapter. Maybe meeting again in the next year.


End file.
